


Four Things Draco Malfoy Hates

by Blessed_Iniquity



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cute, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-22 09:03:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22713568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blessed_Iniquity/pseuds/Blessed_Iniquity
Summary: And the one thing he doesn't.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 20
Kudos: 99
Collections: Strictly Dramione Valentine’s Day Fic Exchange Fest





	Four Things Draco Malfoy Hates

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lotusinthedark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lotusinthedark/gifts).



> I wanted to do something silly and sweet. I never write fluff, but I tried my best! There's still a bit missing, so I hope that you'll stay tuned for that if you enjoy the story. :)

“You do realize that this is a long shot.” The feel of her lips shifting against his skin and her warm breath on his exposed collarbone made his heart stutter. “We’re too different. There’s no guarantee we’ll make it.” 

“Yes, but there’s a chance we might.” His voice, though soft, was uncharacteristically raspy. Dehydration and hours of grunting her name had seen to that. 

“And, even if we do manage to piece everything together...” She trailed a finger down his side, past his ribs and to the sensitive dip on his hip. “There’s a chance our friends and family will try to stop us,”

“For Merlin’s sake, Granger! Having each other is more than enough sometimes, you know.” His exasperated sigh drew a chuckle from her. “I don’t give a Hippogriff’s arse about everyone else. All that matters is this. You. Me. What we’re trying to build together. Nothing is more important than us.” 

Hermione shifted from his side and sat on the bed. Much to Draco’s dismay, she gathered the crumpled blanket, still damp and warm from their lovemaking, around her chest. “I just don’t want you to take a chance if the risk is too great. I don’t want you to give everything up for a venture that might not turn out the way you imagined it. Risks are only satisfying if the reward is worth it.” 

Draco bit back a reply about just how satisfied he was after spending three days locked inside a hotel room with her and eyed her wearily. “Are you having second thoughts?”

“I…” her voice faded into the air. She slowly slumped back against the headboard, shoulders drooping slightly as she eyed the room. They had made a terrible mess of the suite. Clothes were scattered in every place imaginable, along with the plates they had ordered from room service and empty bottles of aphrodisiacs and virility potions. Experimenting had been a big part of their relationship since they had secretly started seeing each other three months before. The woman knew what she was doing, and when to do it, and he had been the all-too-willing victim of her test runs. “I don’t want you to hate me.” 

“Hate you?” Draco couldn’t help it. He laughed. Hard. Even when her eyes turned sharp and her brows drew closer, he couldn’t stop. “Hate you, Hermione Granger? When I literally pulled every trick I had up my sleeve to have you as my overseer in the Reformation Project? Not bloody likely.”

It was the first time he’d spoken the words out loud. They were true, though. When the Ministry had forced young Death Eaters to pair up with respectable members of wizarding society in order to reform them, he had gone out of his way to have her as his mentor. He hadn’t really understood the impulse at first. He’d chalked it up to petty revenge. Being stuck with him despite the fact that she clearly despised him was one way to get even after everything she and the two leeches she called her friends had done to ruin his family’s standing. It was only fair that she suffered with him, after all. And she was the one who had volunteered to help Kingsley and his group of idiots with the stupid program anyway. Why would she be against mentoring him?

He knew of course. He’d spent most of his young life flitting after her, taking jabs and aiming barbs where he knew she was vulnerable. There had been something about her that triggered the worst in him. He couldn’t quite explain why, but Hermione Granger had always gotten under his skin. Maybe this was the way she desperately tried to prove herself to everyone around her. Maybe it was the fact that he’d seen her wandering the halls by herself during her first weeks at Hogwarts, looking absolutely miserable as she struggled to form bonds with children who weren’t academically inclined. Or maybe it was the flames in her eyes whenever they clashed with his across the room. He had never experienced anyone like her. It unsettled him down to his very core. And so Hermione Granger, without meaning to, had placed a Groundskeeper sized bullseye on her back. 

He’d been drawn to her like a redcap to blood.

While their interactions had set his teeth on edge during his years at Hogwarts, they had set the rest of him off during her stint as his mentor. Maybe Azkaban had changed him in some fundamental way, but he found himself enjoying her company during their strolls across the vast gardens set behind his childhood home. His parents had been sentenced to three years in the infamous wizarding prison, and having Granger with him had made the Manor seem less empty. The building had felt like home again. The silent halls were filled with gentle teasing and scolding, and the prettiest laughter he had ever heard in his life. And Granger had changed, too. She wasn’t as quick to set off, and the pity in her eyes had slowly turned into something Draco had never imagined: tenderness. 

He was not ashamed of having extended the hand of friendship after he’d successfully passed the trials and tribulations of his reformation. He had no regrets about inviting her over to dinner despite having no experience in the kitchen, only to somehow set the pasta on fire as it was still bubbling in the pot. He felt no shame for having to settle for simple ham and cheese sandwiches as they sat on his room’s balcony, their feet swaying as they dangled through the gaps in the iron balustrade. He definitely felt no remorse about kissing her as she stood up to leave, or fumbling into his bed during their first attempt at lovemaking after.. The experience had been breathtaking. Three months later, it still was. 

But his parents would be released from Azkaban soon. The thought had been looming in his head like a dark cloud for several days. She must’ve noticed the shift in his mood, even when he’d tried his best to go on as if nothing in their relationship would ever change. Draco was concerned. He had no qualms about informing his parents that he had been frequenting parts of Hermione Granger that would have Malfoy ancestors rolling in their graves, or of the fact that he had no intention of stopping anytime soon. If Draco had things his way, he would be frequenting the aforementioned parts until his heart gave out.

Draco rolled to his side and set his hand over her hip. “Are you worried about my parents?”

The deliciously disheveled curls he’d grown to love bounced as she shook her head. “I’ve been disliked by a lot of people over the years. I can handle your parent’s disdain. It's just...” The color in her cheeks rose as she met her eyes. “I know you don’t like taking risks, Draco. You plan everything out. Even when you think you’re acting on impulse, you always have a plan. And this...is reckless.” her voice quivered. “I...I guess I’m worried about what you’re giving up. This is your life.. There are people on both sides who resent you. Making this public will only make matters worse.”

“Ask me, then.” Draco’s fingers flexed, sinking into the blanket and into the tender flesh below. “Hermione Granger, do you know just what I’m willing to risk for you?” 

Her eyes glimmered in the dim light as they found his stormy grey irises. “What are you willing to risk?” 

The answer came swiftly, without any thought or hesitation. ‘“Everything.”

* * *

As the stillness in the room was broken by the whooshing sound of windows being opened and a burst of cool mid-morning air breaking through translucent curtains, Draco wondered if promising her everything had been a bit of an exaggeration. He pulled the bedsheets closer to him, trying desperately to retain the warmth that clung to them after an eventful night and the hours of blissful sleep that came afterwards. He imagined that the rude awakening was due to oversleeping after making grandiose plans for their first Valentine’s Day together as an item, but she had never really minded his erratic sleep schedule. Especially not after he’d spent most of the night doing decidedly wicked things to her with his mouth. The memory brought a smug grin to his face. A grin that all but disappeared as she tossed a cushion toward his face and finally addressed him. 

“We need to talk.” She sounded stern. “Get up, Draco.” 

_Oh. Oh, bollocks. What had he done now?_

Draco forced a sleep-leaden eyelid to open and squinted through the blinding sunlight in the direction of her disembodied voice. How nice of her to wake him up in the worst way possible after he had just spent six hours trying to gift her with one of the best nights of her life. Not that she had been the only one enjoying his ministrations. The night had ended with them tangled together in ways that made his heart stutter in his chest even now. He would’ve happily remained as a disheveled heap sunk against the mattress had she not decided that existing involved more than sleeping off a night of passion. Instead, he found himself wriggling down the coverelet, teeth clenched in a grimace as the remnants of winter air seeped into the bedroom like an icy hand. 

“Do we, really?” Talking was the last thing on his mind while dealing with limbs that had the consistency of gelatin. He would much rather curl up in bed until late at night, preferably with her body curled around his as well. “Is this about last night? Because I’ve never done that before. And you seemed to really enjoy it at the time. I was actually hoping to bring the subject up tonight, while we enjoyed a nice dinner in some ridiculously opulent restaurant in France.” 

“No, it’s not...it’s not about the thing you did last night.” He snickered into his pillow. He could just imagine her at the foot of the bed, hands set firmly on her hips as she tried her best to still look imposing while the color of her cheeks rose. “And, yes. We really do.” 

“Or we could leave it for some other time.” He pulled the blankets over his head and rolled so his long frame rested in the middle of the large bed he had purchased for the modest cottage she had bought after graduating. He dabbed at his eyes from the safety of his makeshift tent for a second, then smiled wickedly as he lowered one hand down between his legs and lifted it so it shot up from his groin exaggeratedly. “I don’t see why we need to have this conversation now. It sounds like it’s going to be long and serious. Besides, I am currently very naked, very willing, and very ha-”

“We’re not having sex, Draco.” At least she didn’t sound irritated anymore. He huffed, wrenching the sheets off himself and lifting his chin in what he hoped was a look of defiance. It was difficult to play the part of the wounded party when a very important, very male part of his anatomy was attempting to recede into his stomach cavity as the morning chill hit it. “Where are my underpants?” 

“Just what do you think you are doing?” 

He crouched beside the bed to peek beneath the layers of ruffled skirts. “What does it look like I’m doing? This sounds like we’re about to have a somber discussion about Merlin-knows-what, and I’m as naked as the day I was born. We can’t have a conversation of this nature while I’m bare.” Palming the underside of the bed rewarded him with the black skin-tight boxers she had gifted him for Christmas. He slipped them on, only pausing to toss a glance over his shoulder in her direction. “Unless I’m wrong? Please tell me my assumption was wrong, that you’re actually about to ride me into oblivion on the floor, and that this frigid air is some odd form of foreplay.” 

“No, you’re right.” The corners of her deliciously supple mouth quirked at the ends. “But I rather like you naked.” 

Draco sniffed in mock dismay. “Arguing in your underwear is undignified.”

“Refusing sex does not count as arguing, Malfoy.” He clenched his teeth to stop himself from smiling as a trill of laughter escaped her. “Do get dressed, then. We wouldn’t want the esteemed Draco Malfoy to feel undignified after a night of dragging his tongue all over his lover’s body, would we?” 

“Dignity is ev- oof!” He nearly flew headfirst into the bedpost as his foot caught in his pajama pants. “As I was saying, dignity is everything, Granger. A man of my station can’t stroll around a cottage with his admittedly impressive prick swaying elegantly in the crisp morning air. Now turn around.” He twirled a finger in the air as he reached for his shirt. “I’m feeling extra petty today. If you’re going to drag me out of bed without promising a reward in exchange for my efforts, you don’t get to see me naked. I’ll let you know when I’m done dressing.” 

“As her majesty wishes.” She giggled as he dramatically placed the back of one hand over his brow before throwing the shirt over his head. “I was planning on staying naked as well, you know.”

“Well, now we’re both just going to be unhappy, aren’t we?” She whispered something under her breath as he straightened the fabric brunched at his narrow hips. “What was that?” 

“I said you have the body of a greek god, Malfoy.”

“What a nice thing to say. Unless you’re also saying I am just as well-endowed as those statues.” He sat on the bed to slip on some socks and arched a brow in her direction. “I’ve seen those tiny pricks they carved into the statues.”

She paused as she was closing her bathrobe. Just long enough for him to get an eyeful of the full breasts he would unfortunately be unable to touch until after their conversation. “Do you make a habit of staring at pricks, Draco?”

“Only when my girlfriend drags me to exhibitions and swoons over how well-crafted some pasty-arsed statues are.” 

“I distinctly recall you staring at a pair of stone breasts for at least five minutes, Mr. Malfoy. I was admiring the beauty of the statue, whereas you-”

“Was admiring the skill with which Alexandros of Antioch crafted his Venus de Milo.” He offered her a cool smile. “I am a man of class, Miss Granger. There’s more to life than a pair of well-crafted titties.” 

“Is there? Because those _classy_ hands of yours are never far from my well-crafted titties.” She smiled and plopped down on a chair beside the small table in the corner they often used for breakfast. He had been so busy trying to irk her that he hadn’t realized she had set two plates piled with eggs, sausage, bacon and toast just a few feet away. His stomach came to life with a loud gurgle. “Now sit. We should have something to eat before we set off. Or are you not done being jealous?”

“Well, green is my House color, Granger.” _Jealous_ ? _Him_? He inwardly sputtered. Then again, she had eyeballed those statues for an extensive amount of time...he shook his head and sat down in the chair across from her. “What’s this about setting off somewhere?” 

“The list, Draco.” She answered between mouthfuls of bacon and sips of pumpkin juice. “Remember?”

“Not a clue.” God, she was so good at cooking. He’d eaten some of the best meals in his life after moving in with her a year before. It didn’t matter that he’d been forced to partake in all sorts of exotic dinners while attending events with his parents. All of that paled in comparison to the home-cooked meals she would prepare. They did say that love made everything better, didn’t they? “What list?”

She stared at him. 

_Uh oh._

“Erm, it’s been a bit crazy in the Auror Department. I go through so much paperwork that anything I read just…” He touched a finger to his temple and then lifted his hand towards the ceiling. “It’s hard to retain so much information without compromising my memory.” 

“That almost sounded sincere.” Hermione smiled at him, then reached for a slip of paper she had tucked beneath her plate. She unfurled it, smoothed it out on the table, and turned to him once more. “You told me to make a list of things I’d like to try for Valentine’s Day. I didn’t know what to pick, so I decided to make a list with a few things we could do for the next five years. It’s our anniversary date, after all.”

“Hm…” He wasn’t sure he liked where this was headed. He had planned a lovely dinner for them in the restaurant Fleur Delacour’s parents had opened, followed by a night of mind-blowing sex in the Chateu he’d purchased as a gift to celebrate their first year together. This list did not sound like it involved any sexy time. “What’s the first thing on this list of yours?”

Her glowing smile was enough to lift the dread that had settled in the pit of his stomach for a second. “We’re going camping in America! Harry, Ron, Luna, and Ginny will be waiting for us at the specified location so we can travel by portkey. I know you get anxious whenever we’re alone with my friends, but Blaise, Pansy and Theo will be coming along for the trip.” 

He nearly choked on a sausage. “ _Camping_?” 

“Camping _with_ friends!” She corrected, as if the idea of spending a night in the wilderness with two Weasleys and Potter instead of spending it in the comfort of a bedroom with her straddling him made things better. “It’s going to be fun!”

“A quintuple date?” _Ugh, Potter and Weasleys_...He stopped himself from grimacing and forced a smile into his face. “Will this make you happy, love?” 

Her eyes glittered in the faint light of the room. “More than you can imagine.” 

He reached for her hand and gave it a light squeeze. “Then camping with friends it is.” 

And so began the list of things Draco Malfoy hated.

* * *

_Four things Draco Malfoy hates:_

_I- Camping with friends_

* * *

They arrived at a cliff off the coast of Scotland three hours later. 

Still damp from an impromptu session in the bathroom that had delayed them by thirty minutes,and wearing matching flannel shirts in a hue of purple that he felt did no favors to his eyes and complexion, they trudged through the rain-soaked grass at the base of the hill that led to their portkey. 

The sun was horrendously bright despite the smattering of grey rain clouds that still lingered. The heat combined with his already damp skin caused the heavy fabric of his shirt to stick uncomfortably to his shoulders. He was starting to sweat, too. For all their talk about changing how travel worked, the Ministry still had its weird fetish for dropping portkeys off in the middle of nowhere in order to avoid muggle detection. If they asked him, it would’ve been easier to just set up a safe zone for traveling witches and wizards instead of placing them in precarious situations just to leap from one country to the other. Then again, that made sense, and logic was not something they seemed to use at the Ministry of Magic. 

“Hurry up! We need to get there before five or the park will be closed off.” He narrowed his eyes at the small of her back, then pretended to raise his hand to block off the sun to explain the gesture as she glanced at him. “I’m not sure they won’t cancel our trip if we linger here for too long.”

Draco wished they would. But, again, he was asking for some modicum of competence from a broken government system. It would be a miracle if they didn’t deactivate the Portkey until the next day. At least he’d get some fun out of the situation if some muggle stumbled dazedly through their camp after getting their hands on the damned thing.Their first Valentine’s day was looking rather grim. As things stood, his only source of amusement was watching his girlfriend’s glorious arse sway with her hips while they made the small climb.

“There you are! We were beginning to worry that you wouldn’t make it on time.” Theo’s cheerful voice broke the spell Hermione’s bottom had on him. Draco glanced up, and was met with a knowing smile. “Would be a shame for us to be eaten by wolves in such a romantic setting without our best friends to witness it. Can’t scar you for life if you don’t join us for the trip.” 

“Draco slept in!” ’Hermione said, extending her hand so Theo could help her up to the top. “He was dead to the world this morning. Thought I’d have to bring him in a body bag.”

_He_ had slept in? How come he was taking the blame for their tardiness when she had been a willing participant in their little bathroom tryst? “Had a long shift at work last night. My apologies.” 

“Oh, I’d hardly call it work.” Blaise offered his hand to Draco, then took two steps back and smirked at him. “It’s never work when you’re doing who you love, Malfoy.” 

“Prick.” 

“Bigger than yours will ever be.”

“Eat shit, Zabini.” 

“You guys are bloody ridiculous.” With an eye roll that could rival that of Hermione’s, Pansy kneeled by the edge of the broken hill and pulled him over. “You’d think you’d put these petty squabbles aside after more than a decade of knowing each other.” 

Blaise shrugged. “Look, men don’t do the whole friendship thing like women do. We pretend to hate each other to our faces instead of asking one of our pretend mates to join us near a cliffside before shoving them off it.”

Hermione blinked. “What?”

Blaise pointed at the far end of the cliffside, where Ginny was currently standing next to Luna and another slender figure. 

“Hey!” Without another word, Hermione bound off past Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter as they rummaged through their bags and headed towards the women. “You made it!”

“One of them is not going to make it.” Blaise said under his breath. “If my fiance has anything to say about it.”

Draco squinted at the figure in the distance. “Who’s that?”

“Chang.” Theo jerked his head in the direction of Potter and Weasley, and Draco and Blaise followed him to the group. “She wasn’t sure she’d be able to make it. Bit of a nasty cold going around, and she caught something from work at the hospital.” 

“I thought she and Potter had broken up a month ago?” Blaise was the first to ask, much to Draco’s relief. The last thing he wanted was to give the impression that he actually cared about Potter’s shitty love life. 

“Oh, yeah. They got back together about a week after that, though.” Theo shrugged. “Luna told me all about it. Potter just needs to follow Draco’s example and get his head out of his arse. She’s a good sort, she is. It would be a shame if he bungled things up to the point where she finally gives up on him. Then man is shagging a ten when he’s a weak five. He needs to sort out his priorities.”

Now Theo’s love life? Yeah, that he could handle. Draco clasped the hand his schoolmate extended and gave it a squeeze. “So, you and Lovegood are still going at it?” 

“More than going at it. I’ve asked her to marry me!” The happiness in Theo’s voice was contagious.. “We’re just starting sorting out the details, but we need to know when you and Weasley will be tying the knot before we set a date, Blaise.” 

“Ginny’s schedule is a bit congested. The Harpies are all over the place at the moment.The wedding might have to wait a bit.” Blaise released a heavy sigh that almost made Draco believe he was actually sorry about postponing the nuptials. “We’ll just have to keep shagging in different parts of the world until it’s settled. I’m hoping some hot spring in Japan is next.” 

“Isn’t your mother pestering you about tying the knot already?” Draco asked, nodding curtly to Potter and Weasley as they glanced up at him. “I know she’s been wanting to see you married off for quite some time now.”

“Isn’t yours doing the same, Malfoy?” The man countered. 

Draco shrugged again. 

He was not about to discuss any wedding plans while Potter and Weasley were there. Whatever happened between him and Hermione was their business anyways. As much as he enjoyed the company of his childhood friends, there were some things in life even he refused to talk to them about. Blaise was correct, though. His mother had been making not-so-subtly inquiries during their brunches about his future. She would begin by discussing his job, then move to what he had been doing in his free time, and what his plans would be for the holidays. There were two particular holidays that she always seemed exceptionally interested in: Christmas and Valentine’s Day. He pretended not to notice it, but he knew she was hoping for news of an engagement soon. 

Confessing that he’d been emotionally invested in Hermione Granger had been a sore point between him and his parents. At least when he had first broken the news to them after their release from Azkaban. His father had flown into a rage. His mother had burst into tears. He’d left their dinner that night, fuming at the arguments that had happened after his admission, but relieved about not having to hide their love from the world anymore. His father had sent him a letter afterwards with the threat of disownment all but stated, but Draco saw through his bluff. He was the sole heir to his family name and fortune. Losing him meant tossing the Malfoy name into oblivion. Lucious might’ve been blinded by his fury, but he was not stupid. 

Communication between the three had died for months, until his mother had owled him just before the Christmas Holidays. While they weren’t happy with his choice of mate, they would try their best to accommodate her existence in their lives. His father was still bitter about the relationship, but he no longer tossed barbs at Hermione whenever they got together. And his mother had eventually grown fond of Hermione. How could she not? She was brilliant, talented, and had distinguished herself without Potter’s assistance after the war. She was a name every witch and wizard across the world recognized. This not only helped the Malfoys as they took their first shaky steps into the world after the Voldemort fiasco, but it also meant that any children the couple bore would be thrust into the spotlight from the moment of conception. The Malfoys would be able to exist without the fear of having one of their own injured by some slighted party. No one would dare lay a finger on Hermione Granger’s brood. The woman was more than a hero. She was a force to be reckoned with. 

Which was why Draco knew he’d made the right choice when he had decided to court her. Even if his parents never spoke to him again, even if his father had made good on his threat to disown him, his family would still be protected from those who hated them. It wasn’t why he’d fallen head over heels for Hermione, of course. It was just a happy coincidence that his happiness would give his parents the freedom to regain their status in society, and a chance at finding some happiness of their own in the post-war world. 

The wedding would happen. There was no way he would ever let go of the amazing woman who had forgiven his sins and taught him the true meaning of love. He just...didn’t know when. Rather, he couldn’t figure out the right time to discuss the idea of marriage with her. She was always so busy with work, and most of their time together lately had been spent on the bed. Nothing they said while tangled with each other was coherent. And the last thing he wanted was to give her an abysmal proposal when he knew she deserved the world from him. The wedding would absolutely happen. He was going to make him his wife. She was going to be the mother of his children. They would grow older together, basking in the warmth of their love. He just needed to figure out the right time to ask. 

A light buzzing dragged Draco back from his thoughts. 

“I think your boyfriend is calling you, Pansy.” Theo said as he pointed at the sparkly bag by Ron’s feet.

“That’s my toothbrush, you dolt!” Pansy reached out for her bag and rummaged through her items. She pulled out what looked like a toothbrush, but it’s base was suspiciously thick and round, and was also currently vibrating. “It’s an electric toothbrush.”

“It cleans teeth _and_ vibrates.” Blaise gave a low whistle. “You’re about to be replaced, Weasley.” 

Weasley, who had somehow grown even taller since Draco had last seen him, stood up and regarded Blaise cooly. “This is the fourth cock joke you’ve made in three hours. I’m beginning to think you’re only engaged to my sister so you can be near mine.”

“Oh, yes.” Blaise sent a salacious wink in Weasley’s direction. “Your cock is all I think about when I’m plowing your sister from the back, Ronald.” 

Weasley flushed, and his hands curled into fists at his side. Large fists. Blaise’s pretty face would be looking less pretty by the end of the trip if he kept poking at Weasley. Luckily for him, Pansy reached out for her lover and tugged him in her direction. “Don’t listen to him. You are a big, burly man.” She trailed her index finger from the edge of his belt to the buckle in the middle. “You are also perfectly proportioned, if I say so myself.”

“Yeah, I’m going back to Hermione.” Draco covered his mouth and puffed out his cheeks in mock disgust. “I don’t want to hear about Weasley’s prick. That honor has always been yours, Potter.” 

Potter slung his backpack over his shoulder and pulled a face. “I think I’ll join you. The only prick I’m interested in is mine.”

With that, both men walked in silence towards the cliff face. 

Not talking about Weasley’s prick was nice, but Draco was still cautious about being alone in Potter’s company. The two had never really seen eye to eye, even after two years of being cordial. While arguing with Hermione had always been tempting for him, arguing with Potter was anything but sexy. It got angry, and it got violent between them. Fast. If Draco were tinder, Harry would be the spark that lit the fire. Gaming nights had turned into brawls a handful of times. A discussion on politics had ended with drinks flying in every direction. Even Quidditch was a banned subject whenever Hermione brought him along for their friendly catch-ups. The men had tried to be civil, but Draco supposed it couldn’t be helped. It would take some time for Potter to get used to Draco’s existence in Hermione’s life, and he was still acclimating to her circle of intrusive, and often overbearing friends. 

“So…” Potter tried his best to initiate conversation, but then trailed off as he glanced at the cliff. “Hey! Get away from the cliff, Cho.”

The cliff in question was actually a boulder, barely supported by the slip of crumbling land around it. Chang wasn’t the only one precariously perched on the death trap. While Hermione and Luna had stayed behind, Weaslette had joined the pretty Ravenclaw over by the edge. She waved at them as they neared, the freckles on her face more prominent from the slight sunburn she had across her cheeks. Like Hermione, each of the girls wore a different colored plaid shirt that matched those of their partners. While ridiculous, Draco thought that identifying any of them after some ferocious wild creature picked at their bones would be easier that way.

“It’s solid, don’t worry.” Chang stomped a boot against the ground, and the blood drained from Potter’s face. “Nothing’s going to happen.”

“Accidents happen, Cho.” Ginny made a shoving gesture and grinned. “You never know when you might trip and tumble to your death.”

“That’s true.” Cho nodded sagely as she threw a hand around Weasley’s shoulder and tilted her slightly towards the edge of the cliff.. “It would be a shame for Blaise to find himself single during Valentine’s day.”

Potter was less than amused by the friendly teasing. “Get off the bloody cliff, Cho.” 

“First of all, she can do whatever the bloody hell she wants. Second, let’s get off the rock, Cho.” Ginny paused, then met Chang’s gaze. “Not because he told us to, but because we’re strong, independent women who value each other’s safety.” 

“If you valued your safety, you wouldn’t be there in the first place. Get down.” 

Ginny bounded off in Blaise’s direction. Luna followed her shortly, after giving Draco a warm smile and a pair of glasses with mismatching lenses to protect his eyes from the sun. Potter and Chang were the last to leave. Hermione and Draco pretended to not see the disapproving glare that the-boy-who-lived had sent in the direction of his girlfriend, or the slow arching of a brow that just dared him to nag at her in front of their friends. Merlin, it was like watching two rams butt heads. 

“Um, we should head out now.” Hermione stood between the couple and dragged Draco along by the hand. “We’re only twenty minutes away from our time slot. The Portkey’s only supposed to work until five.”

\---

The rest of the day did not go nearly as well as their meeting.

They made it to the United States of America with just minutes to spare, and sat through the most boring lecture he’d received since Professor Binn’s lethargic rants on Goblin rights. They were instructed to stay on the carved path until they reached their camping spot. They could place an anti-muggle barrier in the area if they chose to. They were to put out any magical fires they started immediately after being done with them.They were to pick up after themselves once they were done the next day. And they were absolutely not allowed to feed the wildlife. 

That last rule was broken almost immediately after they set out to camp. 

Chang, Weasley, and Lovegood stumbled into a pair of baby raccoons, and the women had spent the next twenty minutes feeding the fuzzy critters all sorts of sweets from their bags. Potter and Theo had stood by idly, both looking concerned but too resigned with their partners to say much of anything. Once the creatures had scampered off, both women had talked out of their elbows about their cute encounter until the party had reached their destination. Draco had never wished deafness on himself, but he had to admit that he’d considered jamming his wand into his eardrums during the ordeal. 

“Here we are!” Hermione had chirped after she’d stopped in front of a large circular area cut into the woodland. “We just have to put our stuff up and we can make dinner! Isn’t this exciting?”

Sweaty and irritable, the men could only grumble as they unpacked their bags and propped up their tents. The women busied themselves building the fire and setting up the pots and pans they would use to cook the group a meal. Even when he’d had low expectations for the trip, Draco had at least been comforted by the thought of sleeping under a starry sky with the woman he loved curled beside him. He figured it would be romantic. Maybe he’d even manage to find the courage to ask her about her thoughts on marriage as starlight bounced off her lovely eyes.

No such luck. The canopy above the encampment blocked the sky for view. He’d be lucky if they managed to see bits and pieces of the moon above their heads. With a huff, Draco decided that the best thing to do was to pretend to be as happy as he possibly could be to make his girlfriend happy. She was excited about it. So what if he was being eaten alive by insects, or if there would be no discussion of the future beneath the stars? So what if all he got from their first Valentine’s Day together were a few chuckles from their friends, and a lovely meal cooked outdoors? And so what if, after falling asleep in their tents for a couple of hours, they had awoken to rustling and discovered a dozen glittering eyes staring at them through the trees as an army of raccoons descended on them?

She was happy, and that was all that mattered.

* * *

_Number II- Toasting with cheesy quotes._

* * *

“And you know how Priscilla gets when things don’t go her way, so I did my best to sway her from joining these events. Honestly, I’m not surprised she-”

Finding the perfect ring to propose with had been nothing short of a nightmare. He had spent the past six month scouring the globe for the accursed thing, and had visited no less than three dozen stores while doing so. Who knew finding a bit of metal with some shiny stones attached to it would be so bloody difficult? Of course, it didn’t help that he’d set off on his quest for a ring by himself. As much as he would’ve loved to have his mother and father by his side, he wasn’t sure his mother’s taste in jewelry would suit his girlfriend, or that his father wouldn’t find a way to make his life miserable.

“And I wondered if maybe I should just have an affair with him. Opportunities like this only come once in a lifetime, you know? But I couldn’t do that to your father. Merlin, I couldn’t do that to you! I couldn’t face the two of you if word got out-”

It had upset him. If the bonds between them weren’t as frayed as they currently were, Draco would’ve loved to have Lucius by his side. It made sense, didn’t it? To want your father by your side as you purchased the item that would bind you to the woman of your dreams was absolutely normal, right? But his father was still surly about his relationship, and had done little to encourage the union. It had been three years, and Draco still spent most of his visits dodging the barbs that his disgruntled father tossed in his girlfriend’s direction. 

Despite Lucius’ insistence on being a thorn at his son’s side, Hermione had done a fine job at keeping things between the two men from boiling over. She was never uncouth, never engaged his father when he casually made unnecessary remarks about her station, birth, or appearance. Lesser women would’ve balked in his father’s presence. But not Hermione. Truly, Draco had been blessed with a woman with enough resolve to carry her through the unpleasant moments that often came with bridging two entirely different worlds together. 

“The moon is made of cheese. A large wheel of perfectly aged parmesan in the sky. What I wouldn’t do to take a bite out of it.”

Diamonds were nice, but he wasn’t sure they matched her character. He’d considered rubies set in a gold band, but had later decided against it. They _were_ her house colors, but she didn’t strike him as the sort to parade around her affiliation post-graduation. House colors were for kids and people supporting their houses during school events and fundraisers. It would be a bit childish to get her a Gryffindor-themed wedding ring, wouldn’t it? Because-

“ _Wait_ , _what did you say_?” His head snapped up so fast that something in his neck cracked, sending a jolt of pain across his temple. Draco’s eyes swept across the table in the direction of the woman who’d birthed him. “Cheese?” 

Clad in a flowy white dress accented with silver jewelry, Narcissa stuck her pretty nose in the air and sniffed. “I went from discussing the trip I had with Priscilla to discussing imaginary affairs, and you only heard the bits about cheese? Are you hungry, son?”

“I’m a little preoccupied at the moment, mother. Besides,” He gave her an entirely wicked grin. “What I would like to eat is currently ordering some lunch for us. Aren’t you glad she’s fluent in Italian?”

“Don’t you talk about such things with me, Draco Malfoy. I hope you don’t think I won’t spank you just because you’re capable of growing some hair on your chin.” She lowered her head to peek at him over the rim of her large sunglasses. “And just what is so worrisome that you can’t chat with your mother for a couple of minutes?”

He bit back a joke about how spanking had set him up for a life of odd fetishes and decided on taking a sip of his coffee instead. “Work. Oh, and Potter’s expecting a child with his girlfriend. Around eight weeks along, I think she said.” 

Narcissa looked thoroughly offended at the notion. “Even Harry Potter is settling down, and you’re making obscene jokes instead of purchasing a ring for your girlfriend. Women are not toys, Draco. If you don’t show signs of commitment, she will go and find that commitment somewhere else.” 

“Since when are you so invested in my relationship?” 

Another small sound of indignation escaped her throat. “I am committed to your happiness. It doesn’t matter who you love. As long as she takes good care of you and loves you for who you are, your father and I will be happy with whatever woman ends up being your bride.”

It was Draco’s turn to snort. “Father will never be happy. I wouldn’t even be allowed to set foot in the Mansion if you had other sons to pass on the family name.”

It wasn’t the perfect time to get into an argument, but, then again, did such times really exist? 

He had only agreed to meet up with his family in Italy because Hermione had insisted on attending some ridiculous event hosted by an American heiress near the same hotel his parents had been staying in. Work had been grueling and taxing as of late, and he knew he didn’t possess the patience to sit through yet another uncomfortable dinner filled with his father’s grumbling. He had decided to neglect informing his girlfriend of his parents’ location, however his mother,ever the clever wench, had also owled Hermione that day. Draco had been dragged by his perfectly polished shoes down to the colorful rows of restaurants located by the sea before he’d had a chance to properly complain, and had spent most of the morning sulking while Hermione and his mother browsed the shops in town. 

“If we had another son, your place would still be by our side, Draco.” Was...was she crying? Narcissa reached for the napkin by her plate and used it to dab at the corners of her eyes. Merlin, she could at least take those ridiculous sunglasses off before manipulating him. “Your father and I are trying our best to support you. We don’t want to lose you, Draco. We already lost you during our imprisonment in Azkaban.” 

As much as he wanted to argue that being out of their reach was not the same as being lost to them, Draco held back the comment. He’d only seen his mother cry a handful of times in his life. Perhaps taking a stab at the self-imposed exile he’d taken from his family after they had refused to accept his relationship had been a touch cruel. His mother had been nothing but welcoming for the past few months, and he’d ruined the moment by opening his stupid mouth. 

“I’m sorry mother. I shouldn’t have said that.” He reached for her hand across the table and linked her slender fingers between his. It had been too long since he had allowed himself the simple joy of being close to his mother. He’d missed it. Missed her. “Everything’s changed, and I’m just trying to adjust to these changes without causing anyone harm. Father was angry. I thought it would be best if we gave each other some time apart.” 

“He misses you, you know.” Narcissa’s hand shifted, and she ran her fingers across the back of his hand in a soothing pattern. “You have to understand that your father and I were raised in homes where affection was usually frowned upon. He struggles to find the right words, but your father loves you more than anything in this world. His problem is not Miss Granger’s bloodline, His problem is that he feels like she took our baby away from us. You will always be the little boy he rocked to sleep at night. I think he’s struggling to accept that you’ve made your life without us while we were locked away in some cells. You will always be our baby, Draco. Your father just needs some time to realize that.” 

“I...um…” What could he possibly say after that confession? Lucius Malfoy, the man he’d struggled and often failed to please, had empty nest syndrome? If the situation wasn’t so touching, he would’ve laughed. “You’re not going to lose me, mother. I love you. And, God willing, you’ll soon have more of me running around the manor.”

The sunglasses finally came off, revealing eyes so wide with shock that were nearly as large as the glasses themselves. “Is she…? Are you having a b-”

“No, no! Not yet.” The disappointed pout that crossed his mother’s lips made him chuckle. “I’m actually trying to find a ring before any babymaking happens. We’re just practicing for now.”

“Draco!” Her gasp of surprise was followed by a firm slap to the back of his hand. “You do not talk about _that_ in front of your mother!” 

“Talk about what?”

Draco swung to face Hermione, who was all smiles as she carried a tray filled with all kinds of delicious smelling morsels. She walked to the chair closest to him, murmuring her appreciation as he took the tray from her hands and set it on the center of their table. His father, who had excused himself from the conversation earlier, trailed behind her. While the elder Malfoy’s face was set with its customary impassive mask, his eyes softened as they touched Draco's face. 

“I’ve purchased some wine for us. They tell me it’s one of their best.” Even when the words were tinted with the Malfoy’s infamous drawl, he sounded uncertain. “I hope it’s to your liking.”

“He also paid for our food.” Hermione added with another smile, this one aimed at his father. A spot of color tinged his father’s ears pink. “The gesture is lovely, and appreciated, Lucius.”

“I thought we might celebrate the day with a toast.” From the chair by his mother’s side, Lucious sent his son a nod. “It is Valentine’s Day, after all.We should celebrate the love that binds people together.” 

How terribly romantic of his father. No wonder his ears were burning. 

“To family, then.” Draco took the the empty glasses that sat on the table and poured the bottle his father had brought into each cup before settling back on his chair and lifting his drink. “To our family. To love. To what was and what will be. Nothing is worth more than being together with the people you love. Nothing is worth more than this day.”

And even as they clinked their drinks together and smiled for the rest of the day, his heart broke a little in his chest. Because, despite her constant reassurances, she would eventually cry with relief at the thought of finally being accepted by his family. But it was okay. He would kiss the tears away, and everything would be better.

* * *

Number III- Partner Dancing

* * *

The rain tapping on the window matched the drum of his fingers against the bathroom sink.

Outside of the room he’d sought sanctuary in, people laughed and swayed to the music. He’d only entered the bathroom because of the bag Hermione had left on their bed that afternoon, and the note attached to it that stated he absolutely needed to wear what she’d tucked inside it, but the silence had been a welcome change. Draco tended to avoid large gatherings, especially when they were filled with noisy people and chaotic movements. 

The war had left some scars, even if everyone involved moved through the world as if nothing had changed in them. 

Draco blew a sigh, dragging a hand across the coarse stubble that covered his jaw. He had shaved that morning, but time and genetics had given him the questionable gift of a beard that was much darker than the blonde hair on his head. Not only did it cast a constant shadow over his jaw, lower cheeks, and above his upper lip. He’d been too tired to shave again after a shift in the office, but now he felt exposed at the thought of walking out of the bathroom and into a party while looking so bedraggled. 

If he hadn’t promised Hermione he’d meet her and that American girl she had befriended the previous year at this party, he would’ve collapsed on the bed and slept the weekend away. So much for finding an easy job at the Ministry to show the wizarding world just how much he had changed from that arrogant boy he’d once been. The shifts had been long before, but they were getting longer still now that Potter had taken some leave to spend time with his girlfriend and their months-old son. With Ron retiring from his post to work at his brothers’ shop and Harry gone, the weight of the department had unexpectedly fallen on his shoulders, and he was feeling every bit of it. 

He could feel it on the stiff muscles in the middle of his back, and the pinched nerve on his shoulder that caused massive headaches nearly every day. He hadn’t mentioned anything yet, but he wasn’t sure he would be in the Department for much longer. The shifts were too bloody long, and the pay wasn’t worth it. Not that he needed the gold. He was born into riches. He could’ve gone a lifetime without having to lift a finger. But the job had given him a sense of usefulness, and it had smoothed things over with Potter. Why, he would even go as far as calling Potter a friend now. Not to his face, though. Dignity was everything, after all, and making friends with your childhood rival was a little undignified.

Dressing in a bathroom after a terrible day at work was a little undignified too, but Hermione had insisted.

Work would be taking him to China for a month, and he wouldn’t be able to spend Valentine’s Day with her this year. It was disheartening. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d spent Valentine’s without her, but he also knew that Potter needed all the help he could get while he nurtured his sickly partner through the first rough months of her second pregnancy and tended to their little boy. Draco only hoped Potter would be just as willing to stick his neck out for him if life got rough. 

Draco stretched his sore shoulders and turned to the bag he’d placed by the sink. The rucksack was packed to the point of exploding. He didn’t know what was inside, and hadn’t even bothered to ask Hermione what the event was about. All he knew was that she had insisted on him coming over after his shift, and that whatever was inside the bag would help him blend into the crowd. She was thoughtful like that. It was one of the many things he loved about her. And he _did_ love her. Immensely. Otherwise he’d be happily snoozing between his mattress and his thick blanket. 

With a resigned sigh, he dug his fingers inside the bag. Something leathery touched his fingertips. Frowning, Draco pulled the item out...and was met with a pair of boots. Not just any pair of boots, but the strangest boots he had seen in his life. They were brown and black, with white stitching that formed intricate patterns on the sides. They were...unseemly. He suppressed the urge to scowl and set the boots aide, pulling the rest of his outfit out while hoping against hope that things would only get better after the sorry excuse for shoes she had gotten him. They did _not_ . He pulled out a pair of jeans that looked like they would hang from his frame and a jean shirt. If he had eaten anything in the afternoon he might’ve puked. _What the fuck was this?_

There was something else. At the very bottom of the rucksack was a box, and on that box was a small note carrying his girlfriend’s neat handwriting. 

_Put your hand inside me._

Despite the displeasure he felt at the thought of wearing the clothes she’d selected for him, he couldn’t help but to laugh. The sound was deep and throaty, as rough as the stubble on his face. Merlin, he needed to drink something before he ended up with a sore throat. With a mental note to head straight to the refreshments after dressing, he reached into the box and pulled out the surprise. A hat. Not just any hat, but a hat so large and glaringly white that it made his tired eyes narrow. He flipped the thing over and found another note stuck to the inside. 

_Gear up, handsome. We’re going dancing!_

Dancing? Inside those clothes? When she had told him about her desire to dance together during their third Valentine’s Day together, he’d imagined something sensual. Tango. Some Kizomba. Maybe a romantic waltz together while at some ministry event. The clothes she’d given him looked better suited for someone begging for coin outside an establishment. It looked like something Luna Lovegood would wear on a good day. Fucking hell, was he really supposed to go out in public wearing that? 

“You better spend the rest of the night on your knees, love. No amount of kisses can make up for this.” With a sound of disgust, Draco slipped out of his work clothes and into the outfit.

By the time he was done, he actually caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and realized the didn’t look half ba- _fuck_. Who was he kidding? He looked like he’d stumbled into a store while heavily intoxicated and purchased whatever his swaying hands had collided with. Rest of the night his pasty arse, Hermione Granger would have to spend the rest of the week on her knees to make up for this crime against humanity. 

After talking himself into exiting the room for several minutes, Draco placed the hat over the short blonde hair on his head, stuffed his work clothes into the rucksack, and exited the bathroom. 

With his belongings safely stashed away by one of the working house elves, he turned his attention to the people around him. Most of them were dressed in the same kind of ridiculous outfit he’d been forced to wear. Good. He wouldn’t stick out in the crowd. And, hopefully, he’d avoid overeager photographers and their annoying cameras on his way to Hermione. The last thing he wanted was to see himself on the front page of the Daily Prophet while wearing his current ensemble. Blaise, Pansy, and Theo would never let him live it down. Not to mention that his mother and father would probably die of embarrassment.

“Mr. Malfoy!!” Through the roar of conversation and laughter going on around him, he managed to spot Miss Elliot’s bleached hair as she frantically waved at him. “Come on over, sugar. Miss Granger and I were just wondering if you’d make it.” 

“Hermione?” His jaw nearly hit the floor. The woman next to Amanda Elliot was definitely his girlfriend, but the clothes she was wearing were decidedly not something she’d wear.“Just what are you wearing, love?” 

Ignoring the clipped tone, Hermione glanced down at her legs. “A jean shirt, boots, and shorts.”

“Don’t you love them?” Amanda clapped her hands together and beamed. “She has such lovely legs! I don’t know why she’s always hidin’ them. A girl’s gotta work what she has!” She then turned to Draco and eyed him thoroughly from head to toe. “Speaking of workin’ what you’ve got, you’re looking like a snack, Mr. Malfoy. You’d be right at home in Texas.”

“Agree to disagree, Miss Elliot.” With a sweet smile that held the promise of vengeance once they were alone, he turned to Hermione.“What’s this about dancing?” 

”We’re going square dancing, Mr. Malfoy!” Miss Elliot’s grin was as charming as it was suspicious. “Since Miss Granger told me you’re spending Valentine's Day apart, I figured I’d invite y’all over for a dance or two. Doing things together is fun, but doing them together for the first time? Well, that’s just special.”

“Well, as it stands, I happen to be an excellent ballroom dancer.” Draco declared proudly. The glance the women exchanged, however, deflated him slightly. “I’m sure I’ll master this dance just as quickly.” 

Hermione reached for his hat and placed it over her braided hair. “And if you don’t?”

“I’ll change my name and flee the country.” He thought for a second, then added, “With you, of course. Always with you.”

The dancing was horrendous, the music that accompanied chaotic. He stepped on her toes more often than not, and they stumbled through the dozens of instructions being shouted over the crowd like a pair of giggling teenagers. He hated the dance, and he hated the clothes he’d been forced to wear for Miss Elliot’s birthday, but he loved the laughter that followed. They came home drunk and covered in sweat, and too tired to even attempt adding sex to their night. But waking up next to her after a clumsy night of swaying to foreign music had made her happy. And he had, for better or for worse, promised her everything. 

He just wished he’d known about square dancing beforehand. 


End file.
